


Lost Voice

by VioletKnox



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Invasion of Privacy, Order of the Phoenix (Harry Potter), Reader-Insert, Reader-Interactive, shy reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-16
Updated: 2020-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:09:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23169037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VioletKnox/pseuds/VioletKnox
Summary: Request: Snape x professor reader where mc never talks and is shy but it is because she hates the sound of her voice but severus loves it.
Relationships: Severus Snape/Reader, Severus Snape/You
Comments: 6
Kudos: 154
Collections: Snape and Reader Collection





	Lost Voice

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Mention of child neglect, invasion of privacy
> 
> A/N: This was too cute, I had to make it a one shot. 
> 
> For obvious reasons, this has minimal dialogue and is sooooo description heavy but it was a challenge I rather enjoyed and boy was it a real challenge lol in a good way though. So thank you so much for the request anon and I hope you like it! Sorry it took so long, oops.

On and on he went. Black’s ability to drag out a conversation always astounded him every time he was forced to report to the Order at Grimmauld Place, though he supposed if he was an arrogant attention seeking git who was locked up like an animal, forced to play maid with no company, he’d also be desperate to keep his guest as long as possible. But that certainly didn’t give Black the right to waste his time, time he could be spending alone with you rather than listening to a house dog’s whimpering failure to prove himself as the strongest hound in the pack. 

The home of Sirius Black; a shelter for a long line of Slytherins… and one idiotic Gryffindor. The only thing worse than picking this house as headquarters would have been using his own home on Spinner’s End. Thank Merlin it didn’t come to that, otherwise, he’d never get a moment of peace alone with you, especially with that filthy mutt trouncing around, more than likely judging every inch of every wall, sneering about how unfit his home would be for his own delicate taste. 

Resting his chin atop his knuckles, he leaned further into his chair, completely disenchanted by Black’s opinions, beginning to wonder how everyone around the table would respond if he’d pulled out his wand right now and forcefully silenced Black for the good of their eardrums. Most people seemed to actually entertain some of these ridiculous suggestions but as he looked over towards you, he noticed you seemed to share the same disinterest he did and wondered if you’d jump in if he spoke up right now. 

“As _delightfully_ optimistic these opinions of yours are, perhaps the planning of our next steps should be left to those of us who risk their lives out in the _real_ world.” He couldn’t help his cocky tone, the smirk that crept through the corners of his mouth, but it was just too rich to see Black get exactly what he deserved, to see all his childhood tormentors get exactly what they deserved. None of them had risen to the top of the Wizarding World as they’d so bluntly proclaimed during their Hogwarts days and all of them had managed, of their own doing, to strip away the one thing every human craved; freedom. 

He looked over to you as soon as he’d made his statement, but as always, rather than speaking your mind, you had your head hung low, your eyes staring down into your lap as your fingers chipped away at the wooden edge of the table. You’d very rarely voice your opinion during these meetings and if you ever did, it was only because the situation endangered him in some way. He’d been asked multiple times to speak to the Dark Lord about what he had planned for the Potter boy and it was only then you’d speak up to mention the dangers of his position. It was only when the other members of the Order so carelessly began speaking of Severus as some disposable pawn that you’d speak, and it was the most he’d ever hear your voice. 

Even within the walls of the home he shared with you, he’d rarely get to hear that soft voice of yours. It was perhaps this very reason he’d grown to cherish every word leaving your lips, committing your tone to memory, unsure of when he’d get the pleasure of hearing it next. You were a good listener and he loved telling you about his day, his love for you blossoming when he’d realized you were the only one he’d grown to trust, the only one he’d confide in. But you’d never returned the favour. You kept your thoughts to yourself, never being on the other end of a rant. It took him an entire year and a half to finally ask about your day. It wasn’t until he’d completely fallen head over heels for you that he’d paid attention and done what he could to provide you with what you’d given him. But you’d shut him down every time he tried, replying with such simple conversation killing words; ‘fine’, ‘good’, ‘nothing interesting’. 

More often than not, you’d both spend the night in silence if he didn’t speak, though he’d never minded it, especially after a long day dealing with Potter and his insufferable friends. You’d show your comfort by cuddling up to him and with an arm around you, you’d both sit in bed reading a book. He found it endearing that you felt cozy enough to drift off to sleep in his arms before he’d even finish the next chapter and he adored it each and every time. 

Though perhaps it was his own fault for the lack of words you spoke when it was often he how’d use up the hours you had at night, venting to you about how intolerable Black was, how tired he was of following orders given by a man he wasn’t sure he trusted anymore, how rough his own life had become after making one stupid mistake fifteen years ago. He’d always be the one bursting into the same outraged rhythm every night after an Order’s meeting and he’d never even stopped to consider how you felt. 

That would change tonight, and he’d be damned if he took another selfish moment of your time whining about the same things over and over again. His eyes ventured to peer at the clock ticking away in the corner of the room, silently begging that small hand to move a little faster and end this misery Dumbledore called a ‘valuable exchange in information’. Fat lot of good these meetings ever did for Severus and clearly the old Wizard didn’t believe his own words, otherwise he’d make more of an effort to actually show up every once in a while. 

Finally, the last of the Order who actually had something meaningful to report had finished speaking. Finally, he could remove himself from this seat. He’d been sitting there, stiff as a rock for so long, he’d begun to think Black had perhaps bewitch the chair to keep him stuck there for the rest of his life, forcing him to live in eternal torture. 

“Will you be staying for dinner, dear?” Molly had approached you immediately after the meeting had come to an end, asking the same question she asked each and every time you came to Grimmauld Place. “I’ve made some of my famous mince pie,” she said proudly. 

You shock your head no as you smiled at her in gratitude. It was kind of her to request your presence, ask you, practically begging you to consider staying for dinner, claiming it be the perfect opportunity to get to know the other members of the Order. But it wasn’t so much befriending the others you’d had a problem with but rather what such a sit down would entail. A social gathering like this one would adequately prompt for questions to be asked and you had no interest in answering any of them no matter what they may be. 

“(Y/N).” You heard the familiar sound of your partner’s voice as he so protectively placed himself directly beside you, a hand going to grab your own. “We should get going.”

You smiled up at him and nodded your head in agreement, melting into the comforting touch of his fingers interlocked with yours. Severus’ existence in your life had been such a blessing, you thanked Merlin every day for him. He was your world and he was the only reason you’d even agreed to come to these order meetings in the first place. Without him, you had no reason to put yourself in such a socially demanding situation which is why you’d never even considered staying for dinner. Sure it may have been a cheap excuse, using Severus’ disinterest in mingling to keep away from joining the others, but if it saved you the embarrassment of having to speak amongst a crowd, everyone in the room hearing more of your voice then absolutely necessary, you’d gladly take it. 

“Sorry Molly,” you said, quickly turning your attention to her. Your voice was so low. It was always so low, but it was especially quiet whenever you were out in public, keeping Severus deprived of the pleasure of listening to that soft tone of yours.

As soon as you turned back around to him, he gripped your hand tighter as he swiftly made his way to the door without the slightest acknowledgement of the others around him. He was eager to leave, to finally have some alone time with you and give you the chance to speak. The second you were out that door, you felt him grab hold of your waist, just as he always did whenever preparing to apparate and within mere moments, you found yourself standing in the dark in your shared home at Spinner’s End. 

“Shall we make dinner?” He asked you, feeling his stomach continuing to growl after he’d gotten a whiff of whatever gourmet meal Molly had prepared. He wondered sometimes if you held it against him for running out of an Order’s meeting as soon as it was adjourned, wanting nothing more than to set the place on fire as he left. You’d never asked to stay for dinner though a little voice in the back of his mind always told him it was simply because you bit your tongue to keep him happy. 

“I want to shower first,” you whispered, leaning up on your toes and giving him a quick peck on the check before taking a small step back, hands running down his shoulders to his chest. 

“Care for some company?” He pulled you in tighter, offering that mischievous smirk of his he knew you loved. 

You smiled back and gently cupped his jaw, loving how forward he was in the privacy of your home knowing he wouldn’t be caught dead even holding your hand out in public. Your thumbs grazed over his cheeks, your touch always instantly soothing him. He closed his eyes and leaned into your palm, pleasantly surprised when he felt your lips pressed against his for a proper kiss this time. He felt his heart flutter as his lips fit so perfectly between yours, slowly following the rhythm you set. The taste of your mouth like Amortentia, your touch was an enchantment to his soul. You were his addiction and he could never get enough. 

You let out the smallest of sighs as you parted, your smile wider than ever as you made your way across the sitting room and through the door that led to the stairs. Severus followed you and watched you head upstairs, knowing you were heading straight for your shared room to strip completely naked and let the water from the showerhead graze your perfect skin. He couldn’t help himself from imagining such a sight when he’d only be one floor below you. 

He heard you open the door to the master bedroom and forcefully detached himself from his thoughts to make his way to the kitchen. He had a lot to do if he was going to prepare a meal fit for the Queen herself, wanting nothing more than the perfect night with you. He wanted to make skipping dinner at Grimmauld Place worthwhile and more than that, he wanted to give you the chance to speak your mind rather than burden you with the task of listening to him ramble the night away again. 

Immediately rummaging through his cabinet’s, he gathered the last of the parmesan cheese, just enough for two servings of the souffle he knew you loved. He’d never enjoyed cooking in his youth, finding it a mundane and tedious task, but he’d learned it rather quickly as a boy. At the time, he’d resented the choices his parents had forced on him; scavenge for your own dinner or starve, find your own way back home or freeze through the night, but he couldn’t deny the skills he’d developed from his childhood. The same one’s he used now as a Potion’s Master also gave him the ability to spoil the one person in his life that meant more to him than petty childhood grudges. 

He loved working with you. Starting his morning with you by his side, eating every meal together, ending the day curled up in your lap with a book in hand. He’d loved it since the say you started working at Hogwarts. But the one downfall of living within the great castle was his inability to spoil you. Everything you needed was within your grasp and there was nothing he could offer you a house elf couldn’t fetch. They were amazing at their job and he appreciated the fact he no longer had to cook his own meals but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy the pride that came with watching you take a bite into his food and savoring the taste. He wanted that look you gave when you bit into your favorite dish to be for him. He wanted to be the reason for your joy and cooking was always something he knew he excelled at. It was the one thing he felt he could offer to contribute to your happiness. 

He poured the remaining batter into the second dish he’d prepared and suddenly realized the shower hadn’t been running. He’d been so lost in his thoughts, imagining the look on your face when you walked into the kitchen, hair soaking wet, your eyes feasting on the meal he’d prepare that the rest of the world around him had completely faded away, the silence running through the rest of the house passing him without question. Even now as he stood there looking up at the ceiling, just waiting for the familiar sound of steaming water hitting the ceramic of the tub, he felt as though your presence in the house had completely vanished. The panicked feeling of loneliness kicked in and he found himself swiftly walking up those stairs, pausing at the sight of the cracked open door to the master bedroom fearing that if he pushed it open, he’d find you vanished. 

Would you leave a note if you’d finally decided to leave him? Or would you simply disappear without a trace? No evidence left behind, not a single piece of your clothing or your books, your favorite quill to be found. Would today be the day he’d always dreaded? Could you finally have come to your senses and figured out the pain he brought home after a Death Eaters meeting or the morally grey position he’d put himself in unworthy of your company?

He did what he could to push aside the toxic feeling that lay in his chest and slowly peered inside the room with the hope of at least spotting the comb you always left on your nightstand, the one you used to run through his hair when you knew he’d neglected to do so himself. It wasn’t the comb, nor was it the open closet displaying your clothing that caught his eye but the dark figure sitting at the edge of the bed, huddled over a notebook and scribbling away. 

He’d never seen you so concentrated, so eager to write whatever it was running through your mind and he couldn’t help but let his curiosity peek as he watched you from the shadows, careful not to disturb you. He felt at peace watching you write, though the fact you’d never mentioned this hobby of yours to him unhinged him a bit. He’d shared everything with you, from his own scribbles and works to his dark past, why hadn’t you put the same faith in him?

A few moments passed when he saw your shoulders finally relax as you straightened your back, letting out a breath that sounded as though it had been held for hours. You closed your book and put away your quill before reaching for your wand, flicking it to open the trunk hidden in the depths of the closet. You put away the book and Severus heard the faint click of the locks closing shut before the creak of the bathroom door filled the room. He waited for the sound of the shower turning on before quietly sneaking into the room and pulling out his own wand. It took three tries to click open the right lock before he found a stack of notebooks placed neatly in order with their spines facing up. Picking up the rightmost book of the last row, he quickly flipped it open to find you’d almost filled it up with a few pages left blank at the end. 

Diary entries? Had you really spent your time writing out your thoughts when you could have been, should have been, sharing them with him. His curiosity simmered as his disappointment boiled. Did you think he was untrustworthy to hear what you had to say? Is this why you’d always been so quiet around him, taking it out on these diaries instead? He flipped a few pages back and began reading the entry you’d just completed:

_Sirius suggested we ambush the Death Eaters at their next raid today and I’m starting to understand why Severus dislikes him so much. He won’t take Severus’ position seriously and refuses to listen to reason. I’m glad Severus spoke up as usual, though I wish his tone was a little more friendly, perhaps then Sirius would take his words to heart…_

Everything he’d expected you to have voiced during the meeting you’d written here. Instead of sharing your opinion, you’d kept it to yourself and it saddened him. He knew what it was like to have your voice ripped away, to have others shun your opinion and that was the last thing he wanted for you. But he couldn’t even begin to fathom why you kept such things to yourself. Most of the Order members were welcoming, he knew they’d at least listen and consider your words. He of all people would support you even if no one else did. 

Looking up from your journal, he focussed his senses back to the bathroom door where he heard the shower continue to roar with steam beginning to slip through the crack between the door and the floor. He still had time and many questions that remained unanswered. Hoping for a bit more insight, he closed the book in his hand and swapped it for the top left most journal in the trunk, opening it as soon as he flipped it over. 

He smiled the minute his eyes lay upon the unkempt writing with your familiar curves and flicks hidden within each letter. You must have been quite young when you’d written this, first year at Hogwarts perhaps? Had you really been writing for so long without sharing a mention of it with him?

_Mum told me if there’s something I want to share but can’t, I should write it down in this notebook, but sometimes I don’t know what I should write…_

You’d scribbled over most of the entries in this journal, hindering them unreadable. It wasn’t until about two thirds of the way into the book he’d found a proper entry with handwriting much more resembling your own. 

_I think I’ve finally begun to understand why Mum gave me this journal in my first year. She’s always known me so well, better than myself and I think she knew I couldn’t share any of my thoughts with anyone at school. She was right as always, I just didn’t understand how right she was until today. I’ll be writing in this journal a lot more. I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you before Mum. You always know what’s best for me…_

Severus found himself enticed by your mysterious discovery and began to wonder what it was that had you hoarding dozens of these diaries over all these years. He slowly stepped backwards until the back of his legs hit the edge of the bed. He let himself tumble backwards, sitting on the mattress as he flipped to the next page, continuing to read your journal. 

You’d truly stuck to your words, each entry longer than the last, filled with details he’d never heard you speak aloud and before he knew it, he’d reached the end of the journal, summing up the beginning of your fourth year at Hogwarts. He couldn’t stop now, he’d already invested in finding out everything he could about you so his feet lead him back to your trunk and his hands allowed him to pick up as many diaries as he could. Was it his fault a mountain of your own personal thoughts had scattered around him on your shared mattress? Of course not. Who would blame him for wanting to know more about the one person in this world that meant more to him than life itself? Surely not you. 

_Professor McGonagall pulled me aside after class today and asked if I’d be interested in mentoring a few of her younger students struggling in Transfigurations. I know I have the skill for it, but I don’t understand why she approached me with how little I speak in class. What would make her think I’d be able to teach another student as she does? I can’t even imagine how much talking that would require. I’d probably irritate her students after hearing my voice and she’d regret ever asking me to tutor them. Then where would that leave me?_

You’d written quite a bit more in your fourth year, filling a journal in its entirety with thoughts of your studies, your peers, your Professors. His favorite thing to read about though was Christmas break. It was the one time in the year you felt safe and it showed. You’d gone home that year, spending your time with the people you felt most comfortable with. You baked cookies with your Mum, bought presents for your parents and sister and spent a lovely evening watching your favorite Christmas movies, one after the other. It had felt so cozy, so happy, Severus only wished he’d experienced it with you. He’d wished he’d noticed you during his years at Hogwarts but most of all, he wished he’d heard of this story from your own lips, listening to that silky voice of yours as those joyful emotions mirrored themselves through your tone. 

_I was forced to speak of my future after Hogwarts today and I could not have wished more for absolute isolation than in that moment. I don’t know what I want to do when I graduate, and I feel overwhelmed as if I have to make this completely life changing decision by the end of the day or my world will collapse in on itself. It’s not fair. I want more time to decide. I don’t know what N.E.W.T classes I want to take next year and I sure as hell don’t know what I’m going to do with the rest of my life._

The more he read, the more he found himself diving further and further into your life, completely and utterly breaking through the walls that used to contain your privacy, now carrying nothing but broken trust and torn up secrets. He’d sped through so many journals, his mind lost to the world outside your life story, he’d completely neglected to realize the shower had stopped running just moments ago. 

He’d only just finished reading about the end of your fifth year when the bathroom door creaked open and his eyes shot up to find you frozen in place with a towel wrapped around yourself and eyes filled with horror. His heart stopped when he saw the terrified look on your face, only now realizing what he’d done by literally spilling your private thoughts all over the floor of the room he’d grown to love because of you. He’d betrayed you and had been caught red handed nonetheless. So much for possessing the stealth of a spy. 

Your chest rose with grief you could only feel from the loss of disloyalty and fell as your trust crumbled to the floor. How could he do such a thing? How could he snoop around your belongings when you’d made it clear your trunk was off limits, that you’d never look through his own things? 

You stared at him with eyes beginning to water, tears filled with every year you’d spent trusting him, threatening to fall and break apart the stable life you’d built together despite the difficulties it brought. You wanted to cry, to storm out the door, to burn all your journals. You wanted him to hurt as you were in this moment watching him look so dumbfounded surrounded by _your_ private thoughts and feelings, some of which you’d never in a million years wish to share with him. Some of which were _about him_. Had he read the journal filled with nothing but admiration for him when you first met? Had he seen the embarrassing thoughts running through your head when you’d written about the first words he spoke to you? Your first kiss? Your first time?

“But.” His voice had your tears leaking from your eyes, letting out every fear you’d ever accumulated throughout the years spill out onto the floor in front of him. Your lips trembled, waiting for those dreadful words you’d been expecting to hear for a while now slip off his tongue. You waited for him to tell you how happy he was to see you were writing in those books rather than burdening the world with the horrid sound of your voice. But they never came. He simply stood from his place, setting aside the journal he had in his hand and made his way over to you, holding you by your shoulders. 

“I love your voice,” he said softly. The world stopped around you as you peered into his eyes, his thumb swiping across your cheeks, wiping away the tears that tainted the beauty radiating from your soul.

Severus had deceived so many people throughout his lifetime. He’d managed to slip into the ranks of the most dangerous Wizard the world had come to know, but you could always pick his moments of sincerity from his moments of deception. He’d reserved that twinkle in his eyes for you, the way his brows furrowed, begging for his truth to be heard. His lips ever so slightly twitching downwards as if preparing for the disappointment of rejection, all signs you saw as he held you in his arms, looking into your eyes and his honesty had your mind blanking entirely. 

“I-I didn’t mean to look through your things,” he said, knowing he’d not only crossed a line, but had drenched it in gasoline and set it on fire as he continued to walk over it. He’d completely invaded your privacy and was desperate to mend the trust he’d broken, but he more importantly wished you’d never written yourself in such a toxic light. He wanted you to see yourself as the majestic woman you were in his eyes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to read your private thoughts, but (Y/N), how can you say these things about yourself? They aren’t true. You have the most entrancing, precious voice I’ve ever heard.”

Nothing would have made you happier than believing the words coming out of his mouth and though you’d never doubt his honesty, you still found yourself holding back. You couldn’t come to terms with the reality he presented; one where that insecurity that held you back all these years was nothing more than an illusion your mind had created. He loved you. He’d spoken those three words more times than you could count, and you’d believed him as his confidence grew with your relationship which was the exact reason why you were hesitant to take his words as the truth. Of course he’d say such lovely things about your voice. He loved you but the rest of the world, they did not. It was the same reason you’d never taken your mother’s words seriously when she’d repeated the same thing Severus had just spoken to you. Love was blinding, hiding the truth from those who cared for you most. 

Your eyes dropped down to the ground, feeling a weight of disappointment and disbelief fall on your shoulders. Was it over? Was he stringing you along or was there truth in his words? Would he leave you if you rejected his claim?

Severus felt as though he was losing a battle he didn’t even know he was fighting. He could see your doubt. He could tell you didn’t believe him and he didn’t blame you. There was nothing in this world he understood more than insecurities and he could see that your lack of confidence in your voice had been holding you back for as long as you lived and he wanted nothing more than to break you out of the chains you’d bound yourself in. 

“(Y/N), please believe me when I say this. All these horrible, negative thoughts you’re having about yourself, it’s all in your head. No one believes these awful things about you. When I met you, I never once thought your voice to be a burden to my ears. On the contrary, I enjoyed listening to your lectures. I looked forward to finding you in the staff room alone after your morning class. Why do you think I began inviting you to my office when Lockhart showed up?”

He was desperate to gain your belief, to break this wall you’d been building behind his back all these years. He had to keep trying.

“You’d barely say two words in front of anyone else and I felt deprived of the privilege you’d allowed me when you’d began conversing with me. (Y/N), I wanted to hear your voice, I wanted to listen to your thoughts, to know you and to understand you. Even now, I still seek that pleasure… Please. (Y/N).” He whispered the last two words, his worry of losing you hidden behind his tone. His grip on you tightened, wanting to hold you until you’d forgiven him for his invasion, until you agreed to speak to him and let your voice resonate within the comfort of the home you shared. 

You hesitated, wanting to melt into the ground after hearing his plea. He was desperate for your love, he always was. But in this moment, you could see the agony seeping from his soul, screaming for your compassion and devotion. All you’d ever craved was to feel yourself easing off your insecurities, to find someone that loved you for everything you were and know for certain that your voice, that shriveled voice of yours didn’t bother them as it did you. And here he was, by some miracle, in the flesh, offering you exactly what you’d wished for and you wanted to take it, to hold on to him as he was you and never let go. 

This was it, this was what your heart had been waiting for, what your ears had been desperate to hear, what your mind had been craving to confirm; he was your other half and loved you with everything he had (even if his boundary issues were clearly getting a little out of hand). A smile made its way to your lips as your shoulders let go of the weight you’d been carrying all those years. You were free and he was to thank. 

You lunged yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, pressing your body against his, thankful for everything he’d give you over the years. The support, the comfort he provided, was priceless; something you knew no one else could ever give you. You tightened your grip, one hand losing itself in his hair as your eyes landed on the sight of the scattered bits of your life all over the bed you shared together. You’d really have to work on setting boundaries with him.

“Promise me you’ll try to talk to me more?” He whispered as his hands wrapped themselves around your waist in return. “Just me?” He’d always reveled in your embrace, but this embrace, the grip he had on you, felt different. You trusted him and wanted him in your life despite the mess he’d made with your private thoughts. You’d believed him and Merlin only knew how he’d managed to find the right words to say. 

You broke your embrace and rested your hands on his chest, nodding in agreement only to have Severus shoot you that smirk of his as his brows rose. You chuckled, realizing, you’d already failed at keeping the promise he’d asked of you.

“I promise,” you whispered. 

“I love you so much.” He closed his eyes and met your forehead with his. 

“I love you too.”

You gently pressed your lips against his, instantly warranting you a reaction as he pushed you further into his chest and his lips moved eagerly against yours. You’d never felt as whole as you did now in his arms and finally, finally you’d found your voice again, all thanks to him. 

Parting, you hummed in delight, filling his heart with warmth at the sound of your voice. You’d only spoken six words to him thus far and already he could feel your happiness, your confidence resonating within your tone and he could only dream of the conversations you’d have once the realization of how lovely your voice truly was finally sank in. You were his light, his world, his everything and nothing, not even your insecurities could take that away from him. 


End file.
